The Ascent(9)

“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence between us grew too long. “That was a shitty thing to bring up right off the bat like that.”

“It’s okay.”

“You look good,” he said.

I smirked. “Liar. I know I look like shit.”

“What happened to your leg?”

I told him about the caving accident and admitted that it had been foolish to undertake such an excursion alone. “The bone came right up through the skin. I was a mess. I’m just lucky a car happened to stop after I made it out to the highway. Was probably the only car around for miles.”

“Talk about luck,” Andrew said, although he didn’t seem too impressed.

“Six months later,” I went on, “and I’ve learned my lesson. For the time being.”

“Thing about lessons,” Andrew said, “is that there’s always a new

one to learn.”

I bummed one of his cigarettes and said, “What the hell are you doing out here, anyway, man?”

“Regatta race.”

“You’re in it? Get the f*ck outta here. You have a boat?”

“Not my boat. I’m one of the crew.”

“You can sail?” But I knew this was a stupid question. Andrew Trumbauer was one of those guys who did everything from hiking the Grand Canyon to rafting down the goddamn Nile.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten involved in the race yourself,” he said, thankfully ignoring my question. “You live down here, don’t you? You’re an adventurer at heart. Doesn’t take those crutches and a busted leg for me to see that—I know you. And you’ve never sailed the Regatta?”

I shrugged. “Been a busy few years.”

“That’s a sad excuse. What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

I considered this. After Hannah’s death and the disappearance of my artistic talent, I’d submerged myself in the world of extreme sports—skydiving, spelunking, white-water rafting. But I knew nothing I said could compete with anything Andrew had done. So I said, “I once ran out to get my mail in the middle of a downpour without my rain slicker. It was risky, I know, but that’s just the kind of guy I am.”

Andrew smiled. This time the expression looked more human. “You still sculpting?”

“Actually, no. I gave it up.”

“You make it sound like you just quit smoking.”

“No, I still do that from time to time.”

Andrew’s smile died. “Wait—you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack.”

“Jesus, man, why? You were brilliant.”

“It’s … it’s a lot of mitigating factors. Complicated bullshit.”

“Life is full of complicated bullshit. Yours is no different than anyone else’s.”

I felt my heart flutter. For some stupid reason, I said, “I see Hannah.”

Andrew stared at me with an intensity that made me uncomfortable. “What are you talking about?”

“Forget it.” I waved a hand at him.

“Tell me.”

I sighed, watching a group of older men shoot darts. After what felt like an eternity, I said, “You’ll think I’m crazy, but I believe she’s been haunting me.”

“How’s that?”

“I first saw her that night in the cave.” I explained how I’d gotten free of the cave and found the highway, following what I thought was Hannah’s ghost. I didn’t know if I expected Andrew to laugh or clap me on the shoulder and tell me I needed psychiatric help, but he did neither; he merely watched my lips move while I talked and never interrupted. “After that, I kept seeing her in my apartment. Out of the corner of my eye. But every time I turn to look, it’s a coatrack or a pile of clothes. And every time I flip the lights on, she vanishes.” Once again, I waved a hand at him. It seemed a sane gesture, one I was required to do in relaying such a bizarre story. “It’s stupid, I know. But it’s been bothering me.”

“Why?” said Andrew.

I didn’t know quite what he meant. “Because it’s f*cking unnatural.”

“No.” He fluttered some fingers before his face. “I mean, why is she coming to you now? She’s been dead for three years.”

“Never mind,” I said. “It’s all in my head. I’m dealing with a lot of shit about her death.”

“Maybe it’s a warning. Like she’s trying to tell you something from beyond the grave.”

“Or maybe it’s that I’ve been spending too much time alone with my thoughts.”

“And back in the cave?” he said, cocking one eyebrow.

“Back in the cave I was in agony, and I was nearly hypothermicand dehydrated and whatever else you can imagine. I could have imagined I’d been rescued by Bigfoot, and it would have seemed perfectly natural at the time.”

Andrew sighed and rubbed at his upper lip with an index finger. His eyes never left mine. “You’re such a realist. You remember all that crazy shit we used to do?”

I nodded. I remembered it well.

“Realism will be your downfall.”

I snorted and said, “That makes no f*cking sense.”